Dress

When I’m not feeling up to getting dressed or feel as if wearing complicated clothes like a teeshirt and jeans would be too much, I shove myself into a dress.

I have several dresses I pick between. My favorite is a comfortable blue that hugs me tightly has semi long sleeves and covers my knees. I look good in it.

My other common wear (and am currently wearing now) is a pink light weight that has a fake look of a toga. They were common a few years ago. Both of the dresses are old.

I put them on mostly because I can’t take the time and energy to get dressed. I’m a sickling. Some days are worse than others. Today is one such day.

The moment my body was in the dress, my brain said: “This doesn’t fit right, your body is the wrong shape.”

This is a statement my brain gives me when it thinks I’m male. My body doesn’t change, but my inner thought about my body does. If I don’t pay attention to what body parts I have right now, my brain will think I have a penis and I should be the protector not the protected and I should “Bring the Bacon”.

I try not to think too much about my body parts because dysphoria sucks. And this is the time when it would suck.

My dress does not fit correctly on my body.

If you were to ask anyone else who views me from the outside. They’ll say “She looks beautiful in that dress.”

It would be stabbing daggers into my heart and my brain. Because that’s ALL wrong. This dress looks awkward on me. It doesn’t fit correctly. I should be marked funny or stupid or ugly while wearing it.

And I’m NOT a female. I refuse “she/her” pronouns. So it would be multiple stabs in quick succession.

And people wouldn’t even understand why I draw inwards over a compliment.

But I’m still not feeling well enough to shove myself into something more than a dress. I may have to. I may have to put forth the energy and effort so someone doesn’t “compliment” me on this monstrosity that doesn’t fit right.

And no I didn’t realize I was masculine upon waking. It’s not always that I feel male. Sometimes I’m indifferent. Sometimes I’m female. You haven’t seen me twirling when I put on the dress because it fits so perfectly and feels exactly how it should.

Same dress. Same body. Different brain.

I’m genderfluid.

Update: I decided to change. Sinking because of “compliments” is not the goal.


[About Cat Hartliebe]

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